Lucky Man
by Wedjatqi
Summary: John drinks a litte too much at a party following a dangerous mission. JT. Response to a STFever Challenge.


**Warnings**: Some drunkenness and a mild swear word.

**Spoilers**: None

**Disclaimers**: I own no part of the Stargate world, I make no money from this endeavour. I only love this world so much I wish to play in it.

**Note: **This story began as a response to a 5 min prompt on STFever; to write on the subject of being lucky, or unlucky for 5 mins. Well, I couldn't stop at 5 mins, so it became 30 mins instead. I started out to look at John's POV of what it meant to be lucky in battle and the consequences of that….however somewhere along the way it morphed into this silly little piece – Oh well, I follow where the Muse takes me!

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Supposedly they were the lucky ones. John did not agree. True they had won the battle and perhaps even part of the war, but many had been lost. Despite the victory the city had been cloaked in gloom and grief following the operation. So many good people lost. It was too much, too high a cost.

So for some reason someone had hit on the idea of a party. Or perhaps it had been his idea to have drink in honour of the fallen; he couldn't quite remember. Regardless as to how the victory party began, it was now lose in the city. Loud music and dancing, laughter and some tears. A victory of those who had been lucky, those like him, who had managed to escape with their lives. Those who stood just one tiny inch one way or another, resulting in them avoiding being shot, stunned or blasted to pieces by explosives. Surely if luck was real, it had a real sick sense of humour.

But John had had a drink for the fallen, thanking them for their contribution and silently thanking the Universe at large for sparing him and the other lucky others. One drink had become two, two had become four and then Teyla had joined him. By which point his worries and depression had floated to the periphery of his consciousness and all he knew was that he was happy his friends were with him, alive and lucky.

Somehow, he had convinced her to drink with him, something she rarely did. Then somehow it had turned into a competition; one whose rules he had long ago forgotten. Shots had been laid out in lines in front of them both as they smiled at each other over the table. As time moved fluidly forward, and he threw back the shots, the lines of glasses seemed to keep being refilled. No problem he would empty them, but they always seem to reappear refilled. Curious.

At first he thought he would beat her easily; she was smaller and a woman; he should be able to take more drink. He should have known better. She had thrown back just as many shots as him, God knows how many now. The world had become smaller and brighter as they went.

John swayed dangerously close to the edge of his chair as he slammed down another empty glass, and felt her do the same on the other side of the table. He was aware distantly that the table was wet, and the glasses were no longer filling up miraculously. He sat back, restabilising balance to his chair and pointed dramatically towards his beautiful drinking partner.

"You see that's what's the problem, right there, that is…luck. It's a pile of crap…though true I grant you. You're lucky or your not, until your not." He knew his point was being lost somewhere, but Teyla was nodding along with him enthusiastically.

Teyla reached out for another glass and he watched as she struggled to bring the glass to her lips. He began to smile – finally she was feeling it! He would win.

So he reached forward and fished around the glass cluttered table top for a full shot glass. His hand finally landed on one and lifted it to his own waiting lips. The chair slipped out from under him and he somehow managed to grab the edge of the table and prevent himself from slamming his chin against its edge. Teyla began giggling at him, as he clung to the edge of the table opposite her. He realised finally he was in no real danger of falling any great height and let go of his death grip of the table. He dropped to his knees on the damp floor and memories flashed back vividly. He had fallen on the mission, landing on his knees in splintered wood. As he had fallen the soldier to his right had been shot down, would it have been him if he had not fallen? Lady Luck was a bitch…or a goddess, he wasn't really sure. He shook off the dark lingering memories and fears and worked to find his footing.

He scrabbled to get his feet solidly under him and managed to stand up, wavering rather unsteadily. Perhaps the drink was kicking in slightly now he considered. He looked around at the party and discovered to his immense surprise that everyone had gone. The floor was littered with paper, bottles, cans and even a few snoring personnel on some of the easy chairs.

"Where'd everybody go?" John asked loudly.

Teyla looked up from where she had been attempting to stack up the empty shot glasses and she looked around as equally as surprised.

"No staying power, I tell you." John muttered. "Not like us. We see things through."

Teyla nodded in a swirly kind of way. John looked down at her and smiled, she was definitely drunk.

"I am not." She replied and he realised he had said that thought out loud.

"You are." John said as he rather clumsily leant over the table towards her. "I win!"

"Win what?" Teyla asked.

"The game, with the… the luckiness… it doesn't matter what, it matters only that I win." John stated emphatically.

Teyla looked down at the glasses in her hands in surprise as if she had never seen them before. "Fine, you win, whatever you win, though I do not think you win. What was it we agreed you win?" She asked blinking up at him.

John considered this for a moment. "Was it something about eating?" He had a strange hazy memory of staring at Teyla's mouth, but maybe that was related to something else.

Teyla stood up on unsteady feet in a quick motion. "I am very hungry."

Memories of drunken nights ending with chips or fry-ups back home on Earth flooded his mind. Food sounded very good indeed. "Let's go see if we can find some food!"

"Yes!" Teyla stumbled around the table and he caught her before she slipped over in a pool of alcohol. He almost fell himself and there were several moments in which they wrestled against gravity, the table and each other. When they finally found balance they clung to each other and began giggling.

"You're way drunker than I am, I win." John stated as they made their way towards the door. As they made their way through the doorway he remembered the Christmas party they had had several months back. "I remember! I remember what the lucky winner luckily wins!"

Teyla looked up at him with round eyes. "You do?"

John had to stop himself from smirking at the amusing sight of a drunken Teyla. "I remember, the winner gets a kiss. I remember because of the old mistletoe that was above this doorway at the…"

He was cut off as Teyla grabbed his shirt lapels and pulled him close. It seemed the most natural thing in the world and he just looked down at her, squinting till his vision could clearly focus on her so close.

"Yes, a kiss I remember. Then let's go get some food and go look at the stars." She stated.

"Okay." John agreed.

Teyla pulled on his lapels as he leant in towards her. They leant heavily against one another, using each other for support and their lips met in the middle. It started as a meeting of smiling lips and drunkenly unbalanced bodies, but rather like a brief flash of cold water John's attention cleared enough to focus on the feel of her lips against his. Then somehow the kiss was deep and full and he didn't remember how that had happened. She tasted glorious and she wrapped her arms around his neck. He pulled her tight to his body, enjoying the curves against him, until he almost fell backward. The stumble broke the kiss.

They worked to regain solid footing, arms still around each other, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. They laughed at their obviously drunken giddiness. John felt light-headed and happy.

"Let's go get some food then." He announced, and together arm in arm they moved finally through the mistletoe-absent doorway and into the quiet hallway. John kept his arm wrapped around Teyla, holding her to him for the feel of her against him, rather than for stability's sake.

They then hurried through the hallways, hushing each other and giggling like children. John kept reminding her that he had won the game and that he was in fact, a very lucky man.

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THE END


End file.
